


Behavioral Differences

by 5bluetriangles



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dutch and Hosea are in love, Family, Found Family, John is a little bastard, Pack, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Young Arthur Morgan, Young Dutch van der Linde, Young Hosea Matthews, Young John Marston, curious couple and their unruly son(s), is that not a tag???, tiny feral john is like my favourite thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5bluetriangles/pseuds/5bluetriangles
Summary: Dutch knows a lot more about werewolves than your usual human, what with living with three of them, but some behavior still catches him off guard.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde, John Marston & Arthur Morgan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 181





	Behavioral Differences

**Author's Note:**

> Wow look at me first getting into rdr2 in 2020 oops. But I love these boys and I really like werewolves so keep thinking of a werewolf au. I never succeed at full on stories tho so here's just a cute little thing

Dutch awoke in a rather good mood; the gentle morning sun peering into his tent and rousing him with the natural light.  
  
The atmosphere was surprisingly calm as he slid off his cot to leisurely pull on a pair of trousers and shrug into a dress shirt and vest before pulling the flaps of his tent open, tying them in place. The early spring air was a little crisp, and dew clung to the grass, twinkling like stars as dawn stretched across the sky.  
  
He took in a lungful of growing things and snowmelt, enjoying the fresh air as he grabbed his pipe and filled it with tobacco from where he kept it on a small table near the entrance of his tent. As nice as it smelled outside; he wasn’t about to give up his beloved morning smoke and fetched a match from the little box in his breast pocket to light his pipe.  
  
A couple puffs and he let his gaze comfortably roam over camp, small though it was.  
  
Hosea’s tent was already opened up and he spotted the man lounging on a seat at the table a little way away from the fire pit reading a novel. Hosea did tend to get up just before the sun, more of a morning person than even Dutch who liked to get up early and make sure things were in order, and he looked content there with the sun gleaming in a little halo off his hair.  
  
“Hosea my dear friend! It’s good to see you so relaxed!” Dutch announced, opening his arms as he strolled over to the man who looked up at him with an accepting smile. He clapped him on the shoulder when he reached him, giving his pipe some more attention as he glanced around the quiet camp. “Where’re the boys?” he asked, his hand on Hosea’s shoulder as the older used his thumb to save his spot in his book so he could drink from his coffee.  
  
Hosea followed Dutch’s gaze to the boys’ tent, open but seemingly empty, and hummed. “I’ve seen Arthur head out a time ago. And John…” he paused to sniff the air mildly. “Can’t be far, scent ain’t old.”  
  
Dutch replied with an “mmm,” as he settled down into the chair next to Hosea, toying the tip of his pipe between his teeth between puffs, unbothered by his friend’s display of his inhumanly sensitive nose. He had been living with wolves for several years now, and while he was still more accustomed to Hosea’s reserved nature than the unruliness of their boys; they had wormed their way into his life. He wasn’t going to complain either, couldn’t help but feel protective of their kind after inadvertently acquiring a little family of them.  
  
Back before he had met one up close and personal, Dutch had thought of wolves just like everyone else did; beasts that killed livestock and stole children. Simply bloodthirsty. He had no other perspective and no reason to believe anything else. They were wild and fearsome and unknown, so clearly it was all true, he had thought.  
  
His dear Hosea had set him straight to say the least.  
  
Now he was living with three wolves, making a proper living for them all with cons and theft, and pretty damn happy if he did say so himself.  
  
Dutch rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the table while he looked over at Hosea next to him with what was probably too dreamy of an expression, lidded eyes and gentle smile as he smoked. He wasn’t the type of man to hide his swooning, and Hosea would smile back over his coffee in such a way that he merely felt more hopeless for him, what with that silly, happy look in his eyes and mischievous but earnest quirk of his lips charming him to all hell. They didn’t often get quiet moments like these anymore.  
  
But that thought seemed to jinx it, and there was movement across camp that had them both looking up to see the huge brown wolf sauntering into camp. A rather sizable rabbit hung from Arthur’s jaws as he padded over to his and John’s tent to settle down in front of it with a huff, offering Dutch and Hosea a glance of acknowledgment.  
  
Only moments later, a scrawny little black wolf came scuttling out of the woods after Arthur, gangly and awkward.  
  
John was new to the little pack and put Arthur’s feral attitude when he was first brought in to shame. He spent most of his time in his wolf skin, didn’t talk much, stole food, would snap and snarl; an absolute menace of a nine-year-old.  
  
Dutch adored him.  
  
Arthur on the other hand, wasn’t particularly partial to the boy. Surely, they would learn to get along. Eventually.  
  
Dutch watched, amused, as John hunkered low to the ground, ears bent back as he circled around Arthur with obvious ill intent from his jumpy body language. Arthur held his massive paws over his catch protectively in response, and Dutch could hear the growl from where he sat. He didn’t need to be a wolf to understand the clear warning, but John was either too stupid or too stubborn to back off as he danced around his adoptive brother.  
  
“You think he’ll actually pull something?” Dutch mused to Hosea, and the older wolf chuckled.  
  
“I’m sure he’ll get what’s coming to ‘im if he does” Hosea replied, glancing up from his book.  
  
John ignored Arthur’s bristling fur and bared teeth as he inched closer and closer, making aborted little snaps at the rabbit, and Dutch watched the little black wolf’s bold disrespect curiously. Young wolves were both so similar and so different to human children. He often didn’t know where to start with the boys when they were misbehaving in their wolf skins. Not that he did a whole lot when they shed them to be human; telling Arthur off was easy enough and he was a strong believer in natural consequences in this harsh world.  
  
He tried to get a feel for whether their behavior was concerning by picking up on Hosea’s reaction, and the man didn’t seem very bothered.  
  
But in the blink of an eye some line must have been crossed, because Arthur was up on all fours, snapping at John rather then just defending his meal.  
  
The fight broke out before Dutch could even process what was happening; the quiet of camp suddenly broken with growls and sharp yelps as the wolves snapped at each other’s throats, wrestling from where Arthur had tackled John to the ground.  
  
“Boys!” Dutch shouted across camp, stern as he lurched up out of his seat with horror sitting like a stone in his stomach.  
  
“’S alright,” Hosea spoke up, setting a gentle hand on his arm and making him break his gaze away from their boys going at each other like he’d never seen before. “They ain’t hurtin’ each other.”  
  
“What do’y mean they ain’t—” Dutch began, his voice raised as he gestured to the struggle.  
  
“Look closely” Hosea interrupted, his voice patient and soothing.  
  
Dutch did, trusting his friend like nothing else, and it took a moment to see past the ferocity.  
  
There were his boys, jaws open to reveal their wicked teeth like bear traps, kicking up dirt and snarling like the beasts men told stories about. He wasn’t frightened of them at all, but he didn’t understand what had gotten into them. Sure, they didn’t like each other all that much, but this was ridiculous. Arthur at least was better than this.  
  
Still, he did as he was told, watched close and tried to see what it was Hosea was seeing.  
  
And he was right, as always.  
  
Those claws and teeth they were threatening each other with never marred flesh. _They weren’t_ hurting each other.  
  
“It’s different than humans” Hosea explained. “This is an argument, not a brawl. They’re just workin’ it out between themselves. ‘S okay.”  
  
Dutch did suppose that an argument between two wolves would be different two humans; they couldn’t speak in their wolf forms after all. Still, it took a moment to recognize their arguing as anything other than a vicious fight. Even when living with them, the social differences took him off guard sometimes.  
  
“Hell of an argument,” Dutch commented, hesitantly siting back down as Hosea hummed lovingly at him.  
  
Sure enough, no blood was drawn, and when Arthur pinned John to the ground, barking and snarling at him ferociously; it was only to release him and shake himself off before returning to his rabbit.  
  
John scrambling over was a flash of inky black, thoroughly told off, and he came to sit against Dutch and Hosea’s legs in his shame as the older laughed mirthfully at his sad little face.  
  
“Yes, yes. Arthur’s so mean, isn’t he?”


End file.
